


banging blues

by hazelnuttygoodness



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Hate Sex, Kinda, Locker Room Sex, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, he is a drama queen and i love him, oikawa being a cunt anyway, oikawa i cant cope healthily tooru, oikawa: is an asshole, ushijima: i cant not fuck that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 00:51:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15740757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelnuttygoodness/pseuds/hazelnuttygoodness
Summary: “I get tense after a match,” he murmurs silkily and brushes his lips against his pulse, feeling it jump and thrum. “If you’re tense, too...” A familiar pressure builds against Oikawa’s thigh and he lets it grow, glancing to see his ministrations had a quick effect on the ace. He leans up and catches his lobe between his teeth, skimming before biting hard.“Show me why I should’ve come to Shiratorizawa.”





	banging blues

Oikawa loathes the man, every six feet of him and hates the way he can’t hide the shivers he gets when pressed against them. Lean muscle, solid body, strong arms hovering too lightly around him. Oikawa grunts and all but shoves himself against the man, sick of the hungry set in Ushijima’s jaw and intense gaze glazed with lust and the man not doing anything about it. He’s done with tiptoeing teasing.  


“I want a fuck and I know you want it too,” Oikawa snarls, basking in Ushijima’s startled expression before it turns to a certain gentleness. He glares and grabs a fistful of that annoying ombre hair to yank him forward. “Now are you gonna fucking do anything or stand like an idiot?”  


Ushijima pitches forward to their proximity and Oikawa relaxes at the first sign of assent. The bigger man doesn’t move, eyes too focused on Oikawa’s lips for his liking. “I don’t understand why you’re propositioning me in the locker room.”  


Oikawa laughs, actually losing a bit of sexual frustration, warm breath huffing against Ushijima’s skin and he slides his leg between Ushijima’s, shorts riding up and bare thigh slotting teasingly against the weight of Ushijima’s flaccidity. The sudden tension that snaps into Ushijima’s limbs is tangible and Oikawa leans into it, warm breath ghosting over his neck and to his ear. “I get tense after a match,” he murmurs silkily and brushes his lips against his pulse, feeling it jump and thrum. “If you’re tense, too...” A familiar pressure builds against Oikawa’s thigh and he lets it grow, glancing to see his ministrations had a quick effect on the ace. He leans up and catches his lobe between his teeth, skimming before biting hard.  


“Show me why I should’ve come to Shiratorizawa.”  


Ushijima jerks against him and his hands finally touch him, Oikawa reveling in how he could hate and crave something this much. Anger fuels him and he tugs Ushijima’s hair roughly. He isn’t deterred and slides his hands around Oikawa’s waist, light and tentative as he kisses him.  


Oikawa blanks for a moment, frustration forgotten before it flares, hotter and angrier. He licks into Ushijima’s mouth, commits the flustered look on his face to memory and bites his lower lip until he tastes copper. Ushijima grunts but doesn’t let go, hand gliding up Oikawa’s back and lingering awkwardly. Ushijima kisses slow and unsure, seemingly content with holding Oikawa close. It’s sickening. Oikawa wants to break him. Thoughts race through his mind, only fragments catching long enough for him to make sense of. Ushijima had a puppy crush. He thinks this is reciprocation? So naive, clueless, merciless. Oikawa shoves him until he stumbles against the lockers and presses himself against his side, chest against Ushijima’s ribcage and feeling each thud of his rapid heartbeat. He wants to delude himself it’s shock, fear, confusion—but he knows. It makes him nauseous if he dwells on it, so he doesn’t. He palms at the front of the other’s uniform, gym shorts rough and thin and doing his obvious erection no favors. Ushijima hunches over and Oikawa feels through his shorts and boxers to the ridge of his cock’s head.  


“Don’t tell me the great ace Ushijima Wakatoshi is a virgin?” Oikawa sneers, stroking too firmly over wrinkled fabric. Ushijima’s eyes are unwavering and near stoic, lids hooded and lips parted just slightly enough for Oikawa to detect lust.  


“Does the great king always corner other teams in the locker room for sex?” His eyes are glazed and tone pliant and straight. He’s incapable of sarcasm and it stung before, when he harrowed in on all his shortcomings and criticized his team, his efforts, his pride as futile in the end, as if it was natural for him to fail when he should’ve left it all for another school. Now, it sounds innocent and hanging, waiting for Oikawa to guide him. Despicable.  


He laughs, unashamed and grinds his own erection against Ushijima’s hip.  


“Who’s the ‘great king’?”  


Ushijima’s eyes study the lines Oikawa’s body makes against him and stays at the bulge pressed against his hip. “What Karasuno’s 10 calls you. I have to agree. It’s a fitting title.” His eyes drift to where Oikawa’s collar digs with the pull of their jerseys.  


“This great king will gladly take your virginity in your school’s locker room.”  


Oikawa leans back and wrenches his shirt off, tossing it to the near bench and grabs his bag, pulling a small tube from one pocket. Ushijima’s eyes bore into his back and Oikawa rolls his own.  


“I don’t corner people for sex, I’m just prepared.”  


Ushijima’s hands reach for him and glide up his waist, firm and slim. He pulls Oikawa closer, hips against each other and noses into his bare shoulder.  


“Ushiwaka-chan is ridiculously clingy,” Oikawa quips, shivering when his mouth trails down his collarbone. “Aren’t you bold?”  


“You have always been ridiculously attractive,” Ushijima’s sincerity makes him flush more than the flattery.  


“Wait, don’t tell me you’ve been lusting after me this whole time?” It’s suddenly frightening the other way around.  


“I didn’t realise it was lust. You are undeniably objectively attractive. That was a given.”  


Oikawa claws into Ushijima’s hair as the man leaves open mouthed kisses against his clavicle to his pecs. “I didn’t know sex between men was possible.”  


Oikawa grows rigid. “And you’re okay with that?”  


“There are no chances of pregnancy.”  


“As eloquent as always, Ushiwaka-chan.”  


Ushijima hums into Oikawa’s skin, gliding his hands against his smooth pale skin taut with tension and muscles.  


“Do you shave?” Ushijima nips at the skin sliding to smooth pectorals. Oikawa’s face scrunches.  


“It’s unattractive.”  


Ushijima is silent and caresses every inch of exposed skin, groping harder and Oikawa’s puffs of warm air he’s trying to pull more sounds from. Oikawa grits his teeth when Ushijima pulls at his waistband.  


“Can’t be a bit more demure?”  


Ushijima pulls back, glancing up apologetically and Oikawa’s sliding his hands down Ushijima’s hips to tug down his shorts.  


“Oikawa—“ His cock is red and heavy in Oikawa’s hand. He groans as his fingers slide up his shaft and thumb over his dripping tip. He’s a good size and Oikawa’s cock twitches imagining him inside of him. He’s popping open the lid of the lube and Ushijima’s eyes fly up as he’s pulling his shorts down. His gaze is intense and so wide eyed at Oikawa’s cock it’s comical. He’s about to ask if Ushijima is sure he’s into men before he’s dipping his head lower and giving him a tentative lick. Oikawa curses and watches in half horror as Ushijima slowly and smoothly takes all of his girth and six inches down his throat. His mouth is rigid and lips slick with saliva from their loose suction, but Oikawa’s not patient enough to teach Ushiwaka how to give a blowjob and isn’t prepared to face questioning why he knows this.  


He lets Ushijima have at it, resisting the urge to grab his hair and yank him into rough thrusts with only the intent to make him choke. He coats his fingers with lube and warms it between them before reaching behind him. Ushijima watches Oikawa’s expression closely and he rocks his hips to watch him blink and open his mouth wider to accommodate. Oikawa wrenches his finger inside himself, already pliable from earlier preparation and slides a second finger soon after. He’s pushing deep and brushing his prostate with each shallow thrust into Ushijima’s mouth. Nerves thrum and his blood is boiling. He wants to grab Ushijima’s head and shove him against the lockers and fuck into his mouth until he sees tears from those stoic eyes. He scissors his fingers a few more times before getting impatient. He wants the burn when Ushijima pushes inside him.  


Oikawa yanks his hair and pulls him off his cock, saliva and precum dribbling from his mouth. Ushijima swallows, muscles in his neck pulsing. He trails his fingers down his Adam’s apple and cups his palm along his nape, scratching into the short scruff of hair there. He’s pushing him up, the other man stumbling to get back to his feet and Oikawa’s yanking his shirt off. Ushijima’s as responsive as a toddler unconcerned with making their parent’s job easier and Oikawa has to hiss ‘up’ to get the man lifting his arms in a banzai motion. It’d be endearing if Oikawa didn’t hate the man.  


It’s frustrating how much Oikawa wants this if only to affirm he doesn’t. He wants to be fucked hard and hate every second of it until it’s all he can think of, unfamiliar hands instead of smaller sturdy ones, awkwardly big arms around him instead of imagining robust tanned ones, Ushijima’s scent instead of—  


Oikawa presses his body against Ushijima’s, grinding his cock against the other man’s. Oikawa’s slowly losing his patience. He doesn’t want to play seduction anymore, just fuck and forget. Ushijima’s fingers touch his face and Oikawa flinches in surprise. Ushijima’s eyes are waiting and warm. Oikawa sneers.  


“Do you need an invitation?”  


He blinks. “Yes.”  


Oikawa rolls his eyes and bends over the lockers, looking over his shoulder expectantly. “Didn’t I tell you to show me why I should’ve come to Shiratorizawa?”  


Ushijima just stands there, watching all of him. Oikawa doesn’t mind the attention and lazily sways his hips in wait, watches how Ushijima’s cock twitches and licks his lips.  


“You just want intercourse.”  


Oikawa stares. “Yes?”  


He hesitates for a second before standing behind him. Oikawa relaxes, glad they’re not going into Talk Territory. Ushijima really isn’t cut out for friends with benefits sort of thing. He ignores the obvious factor for that.  


But Ushijima lingers, tracing patterns on Oikawa’s hips and caressing the swell of his ass.  


“Ushiwaka-chan, I’d appreciate it immensely if you would just put your fucking dick inside me.”  


If Oikawa had to go another minute without a cock inside him we was going to—  


“Oh,” Oikawa shudders, cock head pushing in, shaft stretching and filling him. His legs shake and he rests his temple against the locker. Ushijima’s hunched over him, eyes shut as he gasps. There’s a swell of pride knowing he made Ushijima’s mask crack but it snuffs because Ushijima’s not the one hiding behind any mask, Oikawa is.  


Ushijima slowly pushes himself in and Oikawa pushes his hips back, wants more.  


“Oikawa,” he grunts, hands sliding up and down his back. “Are you okay?”  


He moans. “What do you think, Waka-chan?” Oikawa grinds his hips and smirks when he hears a hiss. “Just fuck me already.”  
Ushijima slowly pulls out and thrusts in. Oikawa’s fists clench against metal and pivots back and meets the next thrust. Ushijima’s the same size as him but wider. Each shallow thrust stretches him and Oikawa groans.  


“Faster,” he hisses, yelping at the next thrust. “God, yes.”  


Ushijima thankfully picks up on what Oikawa responds to and is thrusting faster and harder until Oikawa finally feels like he’s being fucked. The lockers are shaking with their pace and Oikawa’s moans are getting worryingly loud.  


“You’re so beautiful,” Ushijima grunts, pulling out and slamming back in. Oikawa moans. “Ah, Oikawa.” He sounds breathless and Oikawa would tell him to shut up if he had the will to speak. But he doesn’t so Oikawa keeps quiet and groans around each thrust. His hands caress Oikawa’s waist and hips with each pull and push.  


“More, god, more,” Oikawa rasps and he’s suddenly being fucked harder and braces himself against his forearms as his entire body and row of lockers shake.  


He’s so full, finally, and Ushijima’s finally shut up, muffling his groans into Oikawa’s nape. Oikawa’s gasping and writhing, knows he won’t be able to walk without a limp tomorrow and couldn’t be happier. Ushijima grabs his hips roughly just to manhandle Oikawa because god, he responds to it, mewling as he’s shoved back onto his cock again and again, hard and relentless.  


“Yes, yes, fuck.” Oikawa can’t say much more besides that, mind too busy focusing on the cock sliding in and out of him and shaking his entire body. Ushijima’s cock is so warm and big inside, he wishes he can feel when he finishes inside and fills him with cum. He’s suddenly being pulled forward and against Ushijima’s body. He’s hoisting Oikawa’s leg over his shoulder and lifting him off the ground. He panics for a second, balance not left to him, until Ushijima’s cock slides back into him and he’s choking on a moan. It’s deeper and the angle’s right against nerves that make his cock twitch with each thrust. He’s leaning against the locker, one hand behind him to ground himself and Ushijima thrusts up and lifts Oikawa’s body up and lets gravity do half the rest.  


“Oh fuck!” Oikawa gasps, cock bobbing between them with each thrust, hard and fast like Oikawa wanted. He’s acutely aware of Ushijima speaking, hears praises and affection, but Oikawa focuses on the slide of his cock when it catches deep inside.  


“Oikawa,” Ushijima groans, mouthing open kisses against his pulse. His head is hazy and all he can think is how good it feels to be fucked like this. Then Ushijima is cupping Oikawa’s face and kissing him.  


Oikawa’s almost shocked out of his dreamy haze, but not quite. He kisses back, moaning into his mouth and Ushijima is spurred. He’s sloppy and rushed but Oikawa doesn’t care, feels that pit of disgust in his gut being fucked out of him. Here he is letting Mr. Nationals rich kid fuck him after losing to him for the third time, kissing him to imagine anyone but Iwaizumi.  


Oikawa half laughs into the kiss, but with his harsh breathing and being fucked until he sees stars it sounds more like a broken gasp. Ushijima’s licking desperately into his mouth and Oikawa plays along, twisting their tongues together and pulling back, letting Ushijima chase again.  


He’s so close, cock twitching between them and he resists touching himself, wants every second of this disgusting fuck to last. Ushijima’s eyes are on him when he breaks the kiss, lidded and warm while each powerful thrust shakes him to the core. Oikawa fists his hand in Ushijima’s hair, arching his back and shakes as he cums. Ushijima groans and fucks him through it and Oikawa is outright mewling from over-sensitivity, on the verge of tears but loving every second of it when Ushijima fucks him quick and hard until he’s cumming as well.  


Oikawa’s still gasping, twitching in Ushijima’s hold, his breath catching when he pulls out. He stands on shaky legs when Ushijima puts him down, hand hovering over his waist. Oikawa swats him away. He leans against the lockers, sweaty and tired. Ushijima stands awkwardly, unsure where to place himself. Oikawa has a few ideas, but he knows they’d go over his head and at this point, do empty threats and snark have any meaning? Drinking in Ushijima’s calm demeanor even under any dishevelment sparks a fuse in him. He’s a second away from lashing out, dragging any insult in reach to see that face crack and shatter.  


Ushijima studies him like a dog waiting for approval. Oikawa’s lips twist to a sneer before respected, honored, captain Ushijima uses his bunched up shirt to wipe the cum off himself before staring at it as if there was something else he was to do with a seedy shirt. He looks up when Oikawa guffaws.  


“This was some kind of revenge, wasn’t it?” He asks stoically.  


Oikawa snorts a laugh. “Yes, I wanted to get jizz stains on your jersey.”  
Ushijima’s stare bores into him, steady and waiting. “I’m standing in for someone. You wanted me to know that.”  
The silence is as rigid as his bones. Oikawa takes the pit in his stomach and twists it to anger.  


"Don't be pathetic, Waka-chan," it's ice now, stabbing into him as well. He feels cold and hot. The clarity is ironic and oh, maybe it's just bile. If he does vomit here and now he'll make sure he gets Ushijima in the best splash zone. But his stomach's contents remain composed and his head pounding. He can fire off as many insults he wants, but the set of Ushijima's jaw is enough. He's not fooling either of them.  


Ushijima's fished an undershirt out of his sports bag and gets dressed. Oikawa watches him toss his crumpled stained shirt into it. He's suddenly keenly aware of how cold the room is on his bare flesh. His skin prickles as Ushijima adjusts his bag over his shoulder and gives him another look. He scowls at him.  


"Don't expect anything else, Mr. Nationals," Oikawa's teeth are almost grit and he hears his own lofty tone strain.  
He just blinks and nods low. When he leaves the room Oikawa peels his sticking skin from a greasy locker and rummages his bag for cleanup. He feels like overcooked ramen tonight, or cold pizza. He's sated, for now, but somehow this melancholy is worse than feeling blue. 

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers there are no blues. just sad sax


End file.
